The Holy or The Broken
by prophetoftroy
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley dance. They dance around their duties, they dance around their rivalry, and they dance around their feelings. But now it's the end of the world and their roles have changed, their steps have soured, and the music is gone.
1. Worlds Apart

Chapter one: Worlds Apart

Aziraphale, from the beginning, believed first and foremost, in love. Then, in the beginning that is, he believed in God's love. After the rebellion, after Creation, in addition to _Her _love, he believed in the love humans had for one another. It was quite an extraordinary thing to behold. Nothing made him believe in anything so much as the first sacrifice he'd witnessed made him believe in love.

He believed in humanity. How could he not when he was so personally familiar with what they were capable of? Often, particularly after an especially harsh comment was made, he wondered if his fellow angels were ever really paying attention. They saw war where he saw passion, sins where there were internal battles admirably fought, and frivolity where he saw life. Second only to love, he believed in people.

He believed in Crowley.

Aziraphale wasn't sure what to do with that one. Believing in Crowley was more than his faith in people. In his darker moments, for example, after that horrible business with Christ, when his faith in humanity came only through struggle- his faith in Crowley continued to be unwavering. It was as resolute as that he had in love.

It took him almost six thousand years to realize that his faith in Crowley and that which he had in love, were one and the same.  
Aziraphale loved Crowley.

Of _course _he did. He loved everything, the way he felt angels should despite never having actually met another who did. He loved people, he loved the world, he loved Crowley. At first, he loved him in the same vein he did the humans or pears. Pears were his first favourite thing about the world. Crowley wasn't the second, but he was the one that mattered most and lasted the longest.

Crowley was precious to him; more than his books, more than food, more than drink, more than humanity, and- he only ever admitted this in his mind when he was alone and generally slightly intoxicated- more than his faith.

He'd known the demon was there in the Garden. He'd known he was there curled under a tree waiting for his chance to disrupt the peace. He made such a beautiful snake. And, when the demon Crawly- he'd gone by Crawly then- joined him on the wall, he felt something like a connection he'd never felt. He loved Her, he loved Heaven, but he knew in his soul that he belonged on Earth and here was someone that made him feel more companionship than he had before; demon or not.

Crowley remembered everything.

He remembered the utopian peace that was Heaven, the wonder of _Her _love and how he'd basked in it. He remembered an eternity of being in Her presence, confiding in Her and being confided in. It was an age of bliss, creating and living in Her name with Lucifer, his brother and his best friend, ever at his side.

He remembered clearer than anything the very first time he lay eyes on Aziraphale.

It was before the Fall, but not long before. The wheels were already in motion for Rebellion. Lucifer was in conflict, was in excruciating doubt that Crowley remembered hating having to see on his usually vibrant brother. He was beginning to stir trouble, asking dangerous questions, and spreading the seeds of his doubt when his questions went unanswered. Crowley, who'd gone by a different name, had shared in his brother's pain. He'd tried to reason with him and had been walking with him, as they did, when he saw him.

Aziraphale was young. He was new. No one knew at the time, but he was the last angel to be made. Crowley, talking to Lucifer and begging him to have faith, had barely caught a glance at the newest Principality, and he felt frozen in his step. He stopped talking, gazing with an unfamiliar emotion at blue eyes and white curls and a smile that made him feel strange. Later the humans would identify the emotion he'd felt as longing.

"Brother, if She would just answer any of my questions, any of them, I would not feel this hole in my being. I don't wish to hurt you or Her, I only need to know- brother? What has you so distracted?"

Crowley felt a thrumming in his soul that was unlike anything he'd ever felt or knew existed. He lost his words and his mind felt as though it was unravelling with his very essence.

"I feel odd, Lucifer," he'd said. "I don't quite know how to explain it. Who is that over there?"

He could feel Lucifer's concern and confusion. "The fledgeling? I don't know their name. What is the matter?"

It was the first and last time he saw him before the Fall. He had no idea who the angel was, or why he felt so peculiar. Or why the curious, fantastic emotion felt so familiar to that he had in Her presence.

He didn't mean to fall, trying to keep Lucifer from destroying his future. But, the longer he spent trying to talk sense into Lucifer, the more he wondered if he wasn't the one that needed sense talked into _him_. Lucifer spoke of free will, a promise She had bestowed in line for humanity. He wanted to know, if She had plans to test humanity unto the end of everything, what did that mean for them? She told Lucifer that he was to be her equal, that he was to leave Her love. To be her opposite. To be Her enemy.

"He is my _brother_," Crowley had begged. "He is the brightest of us all. How can you cast him aside as though he means nothing?"

"Yours is not to question," She'd said. "He is mine to do with as I wish, and it has been decided."

"No, please! What is so _awful _about wanting to be near You? You asked us to love them as we love You, and no one has supported your creation of Earth as much as _he _has. It is because of _that _he questions. It is _because _of his love for You. Please, I _beg _of you to reconsider."

"My decision is made, and I will ask you to speak no more of this."

Crowley had thought about that Principality, the one who had made him feel as though he had a vibrating sensation in his entire being. As though he was new himself and new to the concept of love as a whole. He thought about how he had intended to calm himself enough to learn the angel's name and befriend him, but there was an injustice to his brother. His best friend from the moment they were both created, the first two of Her creations. The thought of his potential punishment gave him a moment of pause, as well as the thought of that fledgeling did, but he risked it anyway. He had to.

"Do not ask that of me, my Lord. You have decided, but I cannot accept it. I cannot let my brother be thrown aside for the offense of being created. He has committed no crime."

"It is already done."

Adjusting to the mindset of a 'demon' was perhaps the most difficult thing about Falling, after the obvious first bit. He was the second to arrive in Hell after Lucifer, and the being that had once been his jovial, spirited brother destroyed himself. He let his pain, his anger, and his hurt manifest until it turned into a hatred of all things and he denounced that which they had all once stood for.

But inside, Crowley was the same that he had always been. He was still that angel who had loved _Her _with all that he was. His first instinct was still to heal rather than hurt, help and not hinder. Hell was too dark, too cold and too hot all at the same time without any of that tenderness and warmth that he missed of Heaven. He missed being near Her, despite the pain that still haunted his existence since he'd been cast out.

He thought of that Principality.

The first time Crowley saw him after the Rebellion, was in the Garden. Despite the circumstances surrounding his own Fall, he didn't see Lucifer until long after humanity was created. It was Lucifer that sent him to Eden with the direction of making some trouble. He spoke to him in private, regarding him affectionately as they hadn't since Heaven.

"Brother, do not think I don't know why we are here together. Do not think me ungrateful that you spoke for me. I have been not myself, or maybe I have, but I don't know that I can change it. It feels as though much of me has been stolen, my Grace and my faith as well as Her love. But there is no reason you should be as broken as I. I wish for you to leave. Go to Eden, make trouble, and- and maybe you can find some peace there that you have been unable to find here. I know that you aren't like the others. You were never meant for this, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Crowley, though he was again called by another name, placed a corporeal hand on Lucifer's shoulder; feeling emotion prick at his eyes in a way that was unfamiliar. "I have missed you, and I would speak for you again if time were to be turned back."

It wasn't until he was in the Garden, curled in the deliciously warm sun- which he and Lucifer had created together- that he knew why Lucifer had sent him. His angel was there, the one that paralyzed him at sight. The first time Crowley saw him on Earth, he was smiling with the two humans and showing them the wonders of Eden that they had yet to notice or appreciate. He'd seen a few others that seemed content to ignore the humans, but there was something about the way this angel seemed absolutely delighted by the humans that melted Crowley's bitterness.

When he heard his name for the first time he felt the bitterness seep back into him. The irony, the cruelty, and the injustice struck his heart and made him angrier than he thought it possible to be, though he had trouble aiming it towards the angel himself. He couldn't very well condemn the angel for existing when he'd fought Her for the same reason. Especially when Aziraphale, and Crowley felt like he'd known this from the first moment he'd seen him in Heaven, was something special.

Aziraphale was pure.

Virtue radiated from him in heavy waves constantly that one felt from a distance if they were susceptible to that sort of thing. He was pure in a way reminiscent of Eden, and of Heaven that was. Maybe that was what enticed Crowley into revealing himself there on the wall of the Garden.

Aziraphale reminded him of Home.

For weeks, which was strange as time was a new concept, Crowley watched the angel interact with the humans. He stayed away from them, always hiding just out of sight in case he was wrong and his was one of those angels that would sooner smite than smile. Having seen the angel's smile, he didn't think he needed to worry, but one could never be too careful- particularly when one was in a fragile form and the angel had a flaming sword.

**A/N: I've written a bit ahead on this before I started to post it, so hopefully there won't be any of those long hiatus' I'm terrible at. It will be a long one, with at least one sequel or two and this one will likely be the shortest- spanning until after the Notpocalypse (spoiler alert)**

**This is my new fandom, my newest and most favourite ship, and I can't wait to see what people think. Fair warning, this will sort of follow the series with some additions to set up my sequel. Hope you like it.**

**Cassie.**


	2. Wrong Situation

Chapter two: Wrong Situation

It was Paris the first time Aziraphale truly realized how different his love was for Crowley. He'd been in a terrible position, wanting to leave the dungeon he found himself in and go get the crepes he'd risked beheading for, and yet trying terribly to avoid another discussion with Gabriel. He was becoming frustrated when, out of nowhere, came Crowley's voice. Before he'd even turned around his physical heart pounded harder and floated around in his chest. When he did turn around and see his friend- though perhaps that wasn't the appropriate term- the sight of him there in the corner to rescue him, well, it made his heart grow wings of its own.

He'd loved Crowley longer, perhaps, possibly even from their first meeting at the Garden when he'd so effortlessly and unapologetically comforted Aziraphale about giving his sword away; smiling at him as though Aziraphale's mere existence pleased and amused him. He'd never been on the receiving end of such a smile before.

The first time he had a thought that his affection might be returned was yet another corner that Aziraphale pushed himself in. Despite the last they'd seen each other, Aziraphale had refused Crowley's request and run off after their quarrel, here Crowley was hopping and hissing into the church to help him yet again.

*

Crowley loved him from the Garden, or maybe that first glimpse in Heaven. He could taste Aziraphale's fondness for him, could see the affection his angel had for him in return, could sense his attraction.

But there was something special about Paris.

He'd never heard anything so endearing as the idea that his angel popped to Paris because he had a craving for crepes and brioche. He'd been stirring up trouble in China when he felt a sharp stabbing in his feet that pulled him towards Aziraphale and the predicament he found himself in.

The angel never asked specifically how he knew he needed him, how he always knew.

And Crowley never told him.

"Why didn't you just perform a miracle and go home?" He'd asked, sitting there in the dank cell talking to him as though they _weren't _'locked' in the Bastille.

"I was reprimanded last month," Aziraphale admitted somewhat bitterly. "They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles. Got a very strongly worded note from Gabriel."

Gabriel, who'd once been his brother. He had been the sort of younger brother that resented how close the two older brothers were, bitter that he couldn't do the things he and Lucifer had been permitted to do. Crowley barely stopped himself from sneering at the name, remembering all too well how excited Gabriel had been at his name being among those that would Fall. No sneer, but the thought of Gabriel confronting Aziraphale in such a way- despite knowing how carried away his angel could get- still made his lip curl. "Well, you're lucky I was in the area."

"I suppose I am," he pouted lightly, shifting uncomfortably. "Why are you here?"

Lying _wasn't _Crowley's favourite thing, but it _was _convenient. "My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance."

Aziraphale's eyes widened and he sputtered. "So all this is _your _demonic work?"

"No! The humans thought it up themselves. Nothing to do with _me_."

If Crowley thought about it, he might have thought about the possessive way he thought of Aziraphale. It was as though the angel was his prize for Falling, his own name claiming himself as Crowley's gift. Maybe that was why, no matter the amount of time between, no matter what sort of terms they parted on, he kept coming back. It felt like Aziraphale was his to protect and care for.

It wasn't as though Heaven was doing anything of the like for him.

He snapped his fingers and the chains fell from Aziraphale's wrists. The angel rubbed them afterwards, leaving Crowley to wonder how long they'd been on.

"I suppose I should say thank you, for the, uh, rescue."

"Don't say that," he told him, standing up. "If my people find out I rescued an angel, _I'll _be the one in trouble. And my lot do not send rude notes."

Actually, even though he and Lucifer hadn't spoken on a personal level since the Garden, Crowley was somehow certain he wouldn't care. But he wasn't really the one to handle such things, and demons were always looking for ammunition against each other. It was a miracle that no one had discovered their relationship already.

"Well, anyway, I'm very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?"

Crowley almost smiled at the sentiment. There was always food or drink involved in their meetings. But he didn't smile, instead drawing the attention back to the matter at hand. "Looking like that?"

The angel gave him a sort of glare, pulling on the executioner's disguise and leaving the poor mortal dressed as the aristocrat. Crowley started the human's consciousness again and they watched- he could feel the angel's guilt- as the guards took him instead of the peckish Aziraphale. He couldn't help but tease the Principality.

"Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble." When his only response was another mock glare- for Aziraphale didn't possess a malicious molecule in his being- he continued with a follow-up question of, "What's for lunch?"

That brought a smile and that sort of spark in the angel's eyes that spoke of excitement and mischief. "What would you say to some crepes?"

They dined at a little cafe on the Seine that Aziraphale had obviously been to on a regular basis. He got a plate of crepes, Crowley got a coffee- which deliciously tasted like sin- and they talked until the shop closed about what they'd been doing since they last saw one another in Spain, 1701. Afterwards, Aziraphale looked at him expectantly.

"I-I suppose I should pop back home. I'm still setting up that book shop you suggested. Would you- would you like to come and see it?"

More than anything.

"I probably shouldn't. Got business in China."

"Oh, well. I'll see you another time then, I suppose."

"I'll go to London next and see it. Stay, uh, stay clear of Paris for a while, maybe."

The angel gave an awkward sort of chuckle and that smile Crowley was so fond of. "I shall. Well, that is, goodbye."

*

Crowley loved Aziraphale's trust; his faith in the Almighty, in humanity, in him. He loved that the angel, despite being sarcastic on occasion and a bit holier-than-thou, never lost that part of him that he'd just as soon miracle a coat for a freezing thief as he would for a shivering child. He'd seen him do both.

Crowley even loved the part of Aziraphale that refused his request in 1862, only to change his mind later; both out of concern for his wellbeing.

Presently it was 1941, and they were in Aziraphale's shop drinking and discussing current events of the world at large.

"Is there _anything _I can do to _thank _you, dear?"

Crowley shrugged, not wanting to risk another fall out by mentioning the holy water. He gestured. "Pour me another glass, angel."

He did, glancing at him with a peculiar expression. When he spoke again it was softer and with that affectionate concern he did anything with. "How are your feet?"

"They'll be fine. I'll sleep it off later. H-how did you get mixed up in all that anyhow?"

Aziraphale's face reddened a bit. "I only wanted to do some good. I'd heard they were wreaking havoc in the area. I found their base of operations and wiggled myself into their ranks."

Crowley felt himself smile as he took a sip. "You're too much, angel. Did it not occur to you to just tell the proper human authorities? There wouldn't have been the need to get involved."

"Of course it did, but, I couldn't well let _them _have all the fun."

Aziraphale, as a whole, was endearing.

He made Crowley _ache _with nostalgia. Made his chest tighten with affection. Made him smile. "Oh, yeah, loads of fun it was."

To be fair, he _had_ had fun. He always had fun doing such things, saving his angel and that which he had to do in order to do the saving. It always ruined _someone's _day, which made his _own_, and Aziraphale always smiled at him for it.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I was already in the business, I guess you could say. Heard they'd gotten themselves a wide-eyed bookseller, and I remembered your collection. Leap wasn't hard, and all I had to do was intercept time and place of the meet."

Aziraphale's smiles were always beams, and his beams always shone. The angel smiled down at his own glass and back up to Crowley. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. And the books! I-I really don't even know how to express my gratitude for _them_."

Crowley shrugged. "It really was nothing, angel."

"Not to me it wasn't," he said softly. "Crowley, my dear, I-I wonder if I might say something- without our positions getting in the way."

He knew what he was going to say. He knew he was going to bring up…._that_. He also knew the sort of reaction they'd both get if anyone ever knew. Gabriel alone, the petty wanker, would likely destroy his angel just at the mention of Crowley's name. As much as the idea that they would have _that _conversation excited him, his stomach dropped at the danger of voicing what he was sure they both already knew.

Crowley leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Angel, don't. I-I know what you're going to say, and you must know your sentiments are returned, but if anyone knew- if our Head Offices ever caught wind that we were friends, much less…. they'd destroy _both _of us."

Aziraphale deflated, breaking whatever heart Crowley had left after rejecting him. He fidgeted in a familiar, anxious fashion and looked down into his glass. "I-I suppose you're quite right. Gabriel dislikes me anyhow, and, I'm sure he'd- I-I'm sure I don't know."

This time Crowley did sneer. "Well Gabriel is a cock so I wouldn't take it personally."

"D-did you know him well? Before you Fell, I mean."

Crowley twitched, gritting his teeth. "You could say that."

Aziraphale's curiosity seemed to run over his disappointment at Crowley resisting the conversation he'd originally wanted to start, and he took another sip of his drink. "What was it like? F-falling, that is."

He was afraid.

Crowley could taste it on his tongue, Aziraphale's fear that he would fall for his association with Crowley. It turned his stomach to think of his angel being cast out, but he didn't know how to tell him he belonged in Heaven more than anyone else currently there. As much as Crowley didn't, Aziraphale belonged there.

"I don't remember much about the fall itself," he admitted. "I remember before, and after, but all I remember about the during is it was dark, and it burned, and it lasted for an eternity, but I don't remember more than that."

"Oh."

"You won't fall."

Aziraphale's voice was quiet and trembling somewhat. "I could. Already there are so many things I should have and could Fall for, and there are more in the future I wish for."

That almost made Crowley smile, thinking about the future.

"You won't fall, angel."

If he had to take over Heaven, he would make that was a promise he kept.

*

Aziraphale felt like he couldn't breathe. Not that, as an ethereal being, he _had_ to. He often felt breathless around Crowley anyway. He'd caved. Maybe it was because of their previous encounter, and mutual understanding-a new _arrangement_-or maybe he'd known from that day in St James Park that he would change his mind eventually. He hadn't agonized about it either, the way he had when it was first brought up. He'd heard through his channels that someone in Soho was planning a church caper, and after hearing the person's description, knew exactly what Crowley would be wanting. He briefly envisioned someone not being careful, the receptacle having some water still on the outside. He thought about the potential of Crowley getting hurt at all, nevermind discorporated, and despite his continued fear of his friend's intention with it, the decision was surprisingly easy.

"Can I give you a lift?" He'd said.

Aziraphale declined. Twice. He was afraid, if given the chance, he'd try for that conversation again. He'd be rejected again. Oh, he knew he was being sensitive. He knew that wasn't how it was meant. But that was how it had felt, and despite the elation at confirmation his love felt the same, he still felt that sick sting of hurt.

Crowley changed. He changed often, switching residences every few decades, changing his clothing with the popular masses. As often as he changed his lifestyle, he changed his mind, and here he was giving Aziraphale the opening for that talk they'd somewhat agreed would have to wait for easier times. His head and heart swam with longing and confusion. One decade it was too dangerous, and another he'd take him anywhere he wanted to go.

He had to know that Aziraphale only ever wanted to be with him.

But he didn't say that, instead settling for, "You go too fast for me, Crowley."

And then he left.

**A/N: Chapter two! So far I'm currently working on chapter fourteen AND the sequel all at the same time. I'll be updating this periodically as I write ahead. I love this chapter and I hope you do as well. Don't be too shy to review! Thank you.**

**Cassie**


	3. A Thin Line

Chapter three: A Thin Line

The Apocalypse.

At the notion, Aziraphale felt sick. He couldn't help but think immediately of Crowley. He couldn't help but feel cheated. He'd been waiting for centuries, for millennia, for a moment in time wherein he and his demon could be themselves together; without the pretence of being enemies. Without the need to pretend they didn't feel what he now knew they both felt. He'd been waiting for the time to be right, and now they were out of time.

But he didn't say anything of the sort to Gabriel.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his tone a little bit pleading and his whim no longer in the mood for sushi.

Gabriel frowned in a very familiar expression that always made Aziraphale feel like a complete buffoon. He was sure it was meant to. "All according to the Great Plan."

Aziraphale felt himself deflate, his chest beating faster than it had ever beaten and not in the all too pleasant way it did near Crowley. It beat in a way that made him think he might actually be capable of vomiting. That was bile that rose in his throat, he was sure of it.

"Right. T-the Great Plan. It's just- so soon?"

"It's been six thousand years, Aziraphale. Another eleven and we can finish this war we started in Heaven." He sounded exasperated, but he always sounded exasperated with Aziraphale. "I am also told the demon Crowley might be involved? Be sure to keep an eye on him and keep us informed."

"Right," he said again breathlessly- a different sort of breathless than that when he was with Crowley. "Of course I shall."

Once Gabriel was gone, just as sudden and rude as how he'd arrived, Aziraphale left. He called Crowley's phone but there was no answer. So he paced.

It was remarkable how many times in their history together that he spent hours pacing, always with the demon on his mind. After Eden, Mesopotamia, Golgotha. Every time Crowley left him he would spend the next few months thinking about him, pacing off and on. They saw each other so often now, however, that he hadn't had call to pace in nearly 41 years; the last time being the night he gave Crowley the holy water.

He paced for almost five hours, even strolling to St. James Park in hopes his demon would be there and inexplicably waiting for him with his charmingly devious half-smile. But he wasn't.

The phone rang.

Aziraphale had just taken his waistcoat off and was going to pace some more when he heard it. He breathed evenly, walking over to answer it. It could be a customer. Or it could be Crowley. He hoped against anything that it would be the latter.

"I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed."

"Aziraphale, it's me. We need to talk."

He sighed in relief. He nearly sagged with it. "Yes. Yes, I rather think we do. I assume this is about-"

"Armageddon, yes."

It sounded even worse when he said it. Armageddon. The word left a horrible, sour taste in his mouth and made his wings twitch. It was a completely awful word and Aziraphale wished it didn't exist. The story Crowley told him made it even worse.

"You're sure it was the Anti-Christ?" He asked again.

"I should know. I delivered the baby. Well, not 'delivered' delivered, you know? Handed it over."

Aziraphale's mind was bitter about the whole thing. He was being cheated, his wonderful Earth to be eliminated, and Aziraphale felt himself get angry. He had seldom felt the emotion, and he didn't like it, but this time it was a boiling storm raging just under his skin. And, well, he and Crowley might very well be expected to fight against each other- to hurt one another. That thought made him sicker.

"An American diplomat," he scoffed.

"Earth and all the kingdoms thereof," Crowley reminded in a mumble.

"We will win, of course," Aziraphale said, feeling the need to.

His answer was the tug of a secret smirk at the corners of Crowley's mouth. "You really believe that?"

Actually he did, and yet he wished there wasn't the call to have an opinion on the matter at all. There was no safe solution. If Heaven won, if he and Crowley each even survived the war, they would never see each other again and the same thing applied if Hell won. Aziraphale wished they could be on the same side and then there would be no issue.

Aziraphale mourned the thought as Crowley began listing off a number of composers he knew Aziraphale enjoyed most. Composers they had listened to, and in two instances, when to see in person- together.

Against his better judgment he went to lunch with Crowley, because he could never resist such things, and then to his shop where they drank for six solid hours and discussed all the things they would each have to sacrifice at the end of the world. To be honest, he never knew his- friendly rival?- was so passionate about dolphins or whales. He knew he had a strange obsession with ducks, but the other aquatic animals came as something of a surprise.

"No more glueing loose change to the sidewalk for you," he said.

"And no more crepes for you," the demon countered.

Aziraphale huffed. "You almost get beheaded once…."

"No more lovely little chats with the girl who sells flowers at the market," Crowley said.

Aziraphale knew Crowley enjoyed those just as much as he did.

He listened, commenting here and there. Lamenting here and there. Truthfully he was trying to keep that speeding train of thought from derailing from Aziraphale's carefully tracked mind. He'd been biting his tongue since the Apocalypse was first uttered, and now that their quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol were loosening his lips, he was struggling harder to keep his thoughts in his head rather than out of his mouth.

"Think about it," Aziraphale said quietly, tiredly, somewhat slurring. "All this time, building and waiting and- now it's all over. That's it. Poof. Six thousand years, and it will mean nothing in little more than a decade. A decade! You've slept longer than that before!"

"Don't think about it, angel," Crowley said quietly, suddenly seeming sober. "We-we can fight this. Come on, Aziraphale. I know you want to. I know you're not ready to give up; on Earth, humanity, or…. Or anything else."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of his chair. "Crowley, dearest, I can't. You must know- I- oh, God. I can't deal with this when I'm drunk."

Once they were both sober, that awful, stale taste lingering, Aziraphale gave a sigh- ignoring the longing to bring up that conversation again. At the same time, however, he wanted to believe Crowley that they could change things.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't," he said sadly, "I can't interfere with the Divine Plan."

There was a slight hesitation before Crowley asked, in that smart arse way he used to get under Aziraphale's skin, "Well, what about diabolical plans? You can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the Divine Plan, too. I mean, you're supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren't you? See a wile, ya' thwart. Am I right?"

"Broadly," he said with some caution.

Crowley was brilliant. Aziraphale knew this from the beginning. He won every game of chess, came up with the best plans, and in all sincerity was quite ingenious in his mischief in a way one almost had to admire.

Aziraphale didn't mention that he hadn't so much thwarted Crowley's wiles in the past as much as he had sighed disappointedly and gave the demon something of a scolding. He didn't say that they were already so far past the use of such excuses as trying to change what the other did- hellish or divine. He also didn't bother mentioning- as brilliant as Crowley's plan was- that whether they lied to themselves or others about why they were going to do what they had decided on; their motivations were corrupt.

The road to Hell wasn't paved with asphalt concrete after all.

**A/N: Woohoo! Now we're getting into it. I told myself I wasn't going to post all at once, but I'm impatient. After this, I will only be posting on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This chapter is a little on the short side, but I hope you like it anyway. Let me know!**

**Cassie.**


	4. There Are Mountains

Chapter four: There Are Mountains

"Raphael!"

Crowley's feet planted themselves to the sidewalk of their own volition out of shock, and a near overwhelming ache of pain. Normally, having spent an unfortunate amount of time in Italy during the High Renaissance, he'd have ignored it; the familiar way someone called that name he'd gone by so long ago.

But he recognized that voice, even after the long amount of time that had passed since he had heard it.

He stopped and turned, a snarling expression ready for Gabriel. He looked the same as he had the last time Crowley saw him as he was thrown from Heaven. He had even more reasons to hate him after six millennia of his harassment of Aziraphale. Gabriel stood just feet away looking as smug as he ever had, which only pissed Crowley off even more.

Gabriel approached him, smirking like the arrogant sod he was. "I thought that was you, lurking about in shadows."

Crowley's voice came out as a pleased surprise, but he knew that anyone in Hell- or even his angel- would know it was time to back away slowly. "Gabriel! Speaking of lurking in shadows. Tell me, brother, have you retired your own stalking habits now that Lucifer and I are gone? Or have you found someone else to creep around on?"

Gabriel's face glowered, his eyes blazing with fire. "Do not speak to me so familiarly, demon. I will already be hunting you down personally once the final battle begins, and the last thing you see will be my sword- gutting you open like the dog you are!"

Crowley squinted behind his sunglasses in feigned, passive confusion. "Is this because Lucifer and I wouldn't let you play with us?"

Without warning, or he'd have been able to keep on his feet, Gabriel made an angry motion that had Crowley on his knees. Gabriel seemed content to gloat, standing closer so that the demon was in his shadow.

"I like you grovelling on your knees, Raphael."

Crowley forced himself not to flinch at the name, forced himself to smile instead. To laugh. "Lurking in shadows and now grovelling- my dear brother, I think it's been long enough you've mistaken me for yourself. At least now I can say I've seen the world from your perspective."

"Not yet," the angel said darkly. "But you will. I'll make sure of it. I was right about you all along. No one listened then, but look where we are now."

"Yeah, and you're still as sad and delusional as you were then."

Gabriel snatched Crowley's sunglasses from his face and threw them. "Look at you. Still think you're something special, still think you're better than me."

Crowley shrugged. "Well, they say it's important to be yourself. Set achievable goals; blah, blah, blah."

"Your eyes betray you," Gabriel said, obviously trying to ignore him. "They show your fall from God. They show how She abandoned you. They show who you are, a demon, and the only reason you still live is by Her grace."

Crowley glanced behind Gabriel and grinned, using the expression to hide the gritting of his teeth. In a fluid motion he rose to his feet and lunged forward, shoving the angel back just as a double-decker went by. He thought to himself as he rushed to his car, and in his car quickly left the scene, that he and Aziraphale really needed to stop the Apocalypse now. If Gabriel didn't absolutely despise him before, he would now that Crowley had him discorporated.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" He hit his steering wheel hard with the fleshy heel of his hand.

He didn't know how he was so caught off guard. He knew the Archangel had been checking up on Aziraphale more in recent years. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed, and had he really thought about Gabriel at all he'd have known that Gabriel wouldn't have been able to resist confronting him. He supposed he should just feel lucky Aziraphale wasn't there for it. Crowley really didn't want to have to explain himself, and despite how absolutely shite Gabriel was to the Principality, he knew his angel would have thought discorporating him to be a bit of an escalation.

It was that name.

He felt like his tongue was swollen and he was choking on it. He felt like he was going to start hyperventilating. It was easy to pretend that he was okay, spending so much time with Aziraphale. It was easy to pretend he was something other than what he was. It was easy to forget. But there was something about that name that always made everything feel fresh, that made the pain anew. It made him breathless- eyes stinging, breath catching, angry.

Raphael.

He remembered every syllable with a forbidden relish, despite how hard he tried not to say his angel's name. Not that his angel ever mentioned it or complained.

Crowley had almost forgotten, and now he was being assaulted by every memory and emotion he squashed since he fell. He felt like screaming, or frightening some children, running back to the book shop. To Aziraphale.

If Aziraphale noticed anything strange about Crowley he didn't say so, but Crowley felt that he was different in the days after his confrontation with Gabriel. Maybe that was why he bitterly brought up the thought of killing the Antichrist. He didn't know what he was thinking when he said it. He didn't even mean it, only desperate for some way- any way- wherein they could avoid the end of the world and stop avoiding the point that they'd practically been a married couple for six thousand years.

"Armageddon is days away," he said tiredly. "And we've lost the Antichrist. Why did the powers of Hell have to drag me into this anyway?"

"Well, don't quote me on this, but I'm pretty sure it's because of all those memos you kept sending them, saying how amazingly well you were doing."

The angel sounded almost despondent, and more than almost annoyed. Crowley, however, was somehow sure Lucifer would have had him involved anyway. He'd told him as much that night, that he wouldn't have trusted anyone else to look after him.

"Is it my fault they never check up?" He asked, keeping the topic and realizing he was in danger of being intoxicated- a familiar state when he and Aziraphale got together. "I'm to blame they never check up? Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office. I've seen some of yours, don't forget."

"Yes, but you told them you invented the Spanish Inquisition and started the Second World War."

Crowley shrugged. "So the humans beat me to it. That's not my fault."

"The Chinese Taiping Revolution in 1850 was," Aziraphale pointed out.

He grimaced and took another drink. "That was an accident more than anything."

He stopped, sniffing the air even though he knew the smell was coming from somewhere else. It was like ether and brimstone, and a shimmer of fear.

"Something's changed," he whispered.

"Oh, it's a new cologne," the angel said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "My barber suggested it."

That's because his barber was an idiot with terrible breath and a very serious case of kleptomania. Crowley scowled. "Not you. I know what you smell like. The Hell Hound has found its master."

"Are you sure?"

"Would I lie to you?"

Aziraphale sort of twitched playfully. "Well, obviously. You're a demon, it's what you do."

That was a fair point, that he could tell the angel meant in jest. "And you're an angel, but it wasn't me that told that woman at Woodstock she made an excellent patchouli pie."

"I only didn't want to hurt her feelings, poor dear."

"And that time you lied when Heaven sent you to Russia just before that nasty revolution business?" Aziraphale's cheeks pinkened and he said nothing else. "Anyway, yes, lying and all, but I'm not lying now. The boy, wherever he is, has the dog. He's named it. It's done. He's coming into his power."

"Well, then," Aziraphale said shakily, "welcome to the end times."

Crowley stood up and paced. "No. No, we can't give up."

"Well it's a bit late for us to show up in disguises and try to raise him not to want to destroy the Earth, isn't it? And I don't care much for your other idea. It's out of the question."

He sighed and knelt in front of the angel, making the other being's eyes widen at the intimacy. "You're right, angel. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have suggested it, and I wouldn't have let you do it anyway. You know that."

Aziraphale nodded. "You snuck two dozen children onto the Ark."

Crowley waved his hand in disgust. "Let's not bring up weaker moments. My point is, we can still think of something."

He paused for a moment, enough to see the doubt and hesitance still in Aziraphale's eyes before he took one of his hands. "Look, angel, we still haven't had that conversation- and I'm not going to miss it- but if we don't stop the Apocalypse then there won't be a world to converse on and you might not have me to converse with. I can think of a few beings, angels and demons alike, who are going to be after my throat. Hastur's got a bit of a grudge about that frog. So help me think of something. If anyone can find a way to avert Armageddon it's us. Worst comes to worst, I'll bet we screw it up on accident like Pisa."

Aziraphale chuckled. "We did mess that up royally, didn't we?"

Crowley shrugged. "I think it gave it a bit more character."

"Crowley, dear, if we get caught-"

"We won't," Crowley promised. "And if we do, we'll find a way around that as well. We always do."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand back. "Alright."

**A/N: Sorry! I meant to post this yesterday and I forgot. My life is sort of in a limbo right now for the next few weeks and I'm not really sure what today is. So I'll post this today, and the next chapter tomorrow to catch up to my original posting schedule. I have finished chapter fourteen, and I am very excited for what's to come. **

**If you are not sold on the whole Crowley-was-Raphael, message me. I honestly have a very practised speech as to why I think it's possible and why I support the headcanon. I gave it to my husband, and he's in to it now. I'll happily list anyone reasons that wishes to ask. **

**As a tease, I will tell you that the next chapter will have... LUCIFER! Now, for the Supernatural and Lucifer fans among you, he will unlike either. But that's all I will say for now. Thank you so much for reading.**

**Cassie.**


	5. Past Comes Back to Life

Chapter five: Past Comes Back to Life

Crowley sneered as he snapped the television off. Ligur and Hastur, two of the most incompetent beings Crowley had ever had the displeasure of meeting, and they weren't any better before the Fall. He groaned, trying to think of something. He and Aziraphale were supposed to meet up that night in the park to discuss, taking the day to think of how to find the boy and what to do once they did.

"Raphael."

Crowley winced in pain, the pain that always came when he heard that name- one of the crueller of Her jokes. He jerked his head over, ready to fight or kill as the occasion called. His first instinct was that it was Gabriel, coming back sooner than he had expected. Even before he saw his visitor, however, he knew it wasn't.

It was strange to see Lucifer standing there in his foyer, wearing a button-up, a black tie, and a grey double-breasted vest. He had his hands in his pockets looking quite casual and more like the brother Crowley remembered with a terrible fondness.

"Lucifer. Been a spell."

Lucifer sort of smiled, nodding and seeming self-confident and self-content. "It has. Might I come in?"

Crowley gestured. "Your prerogative."

He walked in, glancing around before conjuring a chair to sit in similar to that Crowley had seen in his- for lack of a better phrase- throne room. "How cold your flat is. Where does your angel friend sit during your visits, with this pointed lack of furniture?"

Crowley felt something inside him seize in alarm, but knew it would be foolish to deny what his brother- Heaven couldn't take that away from them- already knew. "We rarely visit here, and when we do he likes to conjure his own furniture as you did."

"Ah, yes. The book shop, St. James Park, occasionally Naschmarkt in Vienna in a pinch," he said everything very matter of fact, as though he'd known it all from the beginning. Then he smiled a bright and friendly smile. "Don't look so worried, brother. I hold no hostility towards either of you, and I know that I and God are the only ones aware at the moment."

"Why are you here, Lucifer, and in what capacity?"

"I come in the capacity of solidarity. I know that you are both in plans of throwing off the Apocalypse, and I wish to help."

Crowley frowned, studying Lucifer's face closely for any hint of deceit. But Lucifer always played the best tricks. Again, he thought it would only make things worse to lie in this case. "Why would you want to help? Everyone in Heaven or Hell is chomping at the bit for this."

"Not everyone."

He shifted, feeling vulnerable in his position and preparing to strike. There was a war in his mind- memories caught between the smiling brother he'd loved in Heaven, and the cruel King of Hell he'd become. The Lucifer sitting across from him, waiting calmly and expectantly, seemed more like the former; but with his and more importantly Aziraphale's existences at stake, he couldn't risk taking him at face value.

"What do you mean? Why would you want to help? If you don't like it, why wouldn't you employ the use of Hell to stop it?"

"Because I cannot. They would not listen to me at this stage. However, if someone else were to stop the end, then I could keep them at bay for the next time and pardon that which were involved in such a scheme to begin with."

"That didn't tell me why you would want to help? Since when have you been so chummy with Her again?"

Lucifer moved to strike at Crowley's globe, watching it spin for a moment. "Because I never stopped believing in the world we were once to help create. I rather like humans. I like their sense of life, and the appreciation they have for it. I've never seen an immortal being with such perception."

He had obviously not met Aziraphale.

"Besides," Lucifer continued, "Heaven and Hell are both under the assumption that Earth's death is written in stone in Her planner. It is not, and that is how I intend to help."

"What do you mean it's not?" Crowley asked. "It's according to her Divine Plan, isn't it? The Antichrist, the Hell Hound, etc."

Lucifer smiled. "And yet you have lost my son. Do you think, if Heaven and Hell knew all the Plan that she does, they would not know it?"

Crowley's stomach turned.

"Come, brother," Lucifer said. "Introduce me to the angel that has stolen your heart."

*

Crowley parked down from the book shop just as he watched Gabriel and Sandalphon walk out. He clenched the steering wheel hard in his fists and grit his teeth at the sight of the former. Lucifer didn't have the visceral reaction he did, but Crowley caught his glare at them.

"Strange to see them after so long, isn't it?" He said stiffly.

"Not really," Crowley mumbled, getting out of the car as they vanished from sight. "They're still dodgy knobs, the both of them."

"Is Gabriel still…." Lucifer trailed off with a gesture and a grimace.

"Uncomfortably obsessed?" Crowley supplied, answering at Lucifer's nod, "Very much so."

He walked a little ahead of Lucifer, wanting to be the first in the shop in hopes Aziraphale would be less likely to have a fit; while mentally acknowledging there was no way the angel wouldn't.

"Should we not have called first?" Lucifer asked just outside of the door in.

"Nah." That would have given Aziraphale a chance to say no, or already be freaking out when they arrived. "Angel loves surprises."

He was surprised himself when he saw that there were a few customers there. Not only because he'd just seen Gabriel, but because he knew Aziraphale actually hated to sell any of his books and came up with the cleverest ways of running customers off.

Crowley navigated around and into the back room where they had most of their conversations nowadays, and his friend liked to sit and spy on his customers in case they went after any of his well collected first editions. Aziraphale had his back to them when they came in and seemed to be talking to himself in something of a panic.

"Hey, angel."

"Crowley!" He turned around and stopped short at the being behind him, his eyes widening. Crowley was sure they'd never met in person, but Lucifer was one he was sure everyone would know at sight- particularly if Aziraphale's paleness was anything to go by. "Crowley, what have you done?"

"You must be Aziraphale," Lucifer said smoothly. Politely.

Aziraphale squeaked.

Crowley stepped closer in hopes of doing some damage control before there was damage. "I know what it looks like, but just listen."

"You-you're Lucifer. And-and, Crowley, you brought him to my shop. What were you thinking?"

"I trust him, angel." Crowley spoke low, but he was sure his brother knew the gist. "He told me he wants to help, and I believe him. Please just hear him out with me."

Aziraphale glared and hissed back. "You can't just trust him! He-he was the one who started all of this in the first place! Him and that-that Rebellion."

Crowley made a face. "Really it was more of a…. servile insurrection than anything. And, did you forget what I am?"

"Friends with a demon is entirely different than having Satan in my shop for tea and crumpets."

"I've never actually had either," Lucifer cut in.

At the interruption, Aziraphale looked over at him seeming absolutely appalled. "Y-you've never had tea?"

Lucifer shrugged and gave a disarming smile. "I don't get out much."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and passed them to close the shop and kick the current customers out- which Crowley was sure he absolutely hated to do. Crowley motioned for Lucifer to follow him into the room, going over to start the kettle. Tea would calm his friends, as would something to eat.

"Crowley, explain," the angel said when he came back, panting slightly.

"Please, allow me," Lucifer said, already sitting in his second chosen spot- Crowley making him move after he originally sat in his spot. "I have yet to fully explain even to…. Crowley."

Crowley rolled his eyes at the hesitation. To Lucifer he was always going to be 'Raphael', or his much preferred, 'brother'. He did, however, appreciate the effort. He was another, aside from his angel, that he didn't have to pretend to be this evil, murdering demon with.

"Heaven and Hell are operating under the assumption that Earth's destruction is a solid, unchangeable thing in the Divine Plan, and it's not."

"That's it," Crowley gestured, interrupting with a pointed finger. "That's all he told me. So."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows in a way asking permission to continue without further disruption. Crowley waved his hand in a circle for him to go on. "Yes, right. My son was always part of the Plan, his getting the Hell Hound, as was him not being raised by the Dowlings. Yes, I know all about that. Instead, my son was to be raised here without any interference by celestial or infernal forces. The Apocalypse isn't a given, merely the potential."

Aziraphale handed Crowley a coffee and placed a cup of tea in front of Lucifer. "Why would you know this and not the other demons? Why not Heaven?"

"Because they do not speak to Her. She speaks to no one anymore aside from the Seraphim council and myself."

Lucifer's confession startled Crowley to his core, making him drop his cup and only barely register its shattering on the floor- Aziraphale's tsking. They both looked at him, Lucifer as though he'd expected this.

"You're talking to Her? After what She's done?"

"It was a very long time ago, brother, and I have forgiven her."

"It hasn't been long enough, and I don't!"

Aziraphale miracled the cup to its perfect self and picked it up, giving Crowley a look that clearly said he needed to calm down. He sounded scandalized. "Crowley, you can't talk about Her like that!"

Lucifer was regarding his tea with a confused frown. "Yes, in short, I am talking to her. I have for some time. We've discussed many things, about our Fall and my son to name a couple. That is why I am here. I don't want this to end any more than either of you do."

"I don't understand," Aziraphale said, fretting. "I thought you hated humans."

"Not at all," Lucifer said. "I think they're quite clever. I was among the first two She told about them while she was still thinking details through, and I was quite excited at the concept."

"Then- why did you Fall?" Lucifer didn't answer, choosing that moment to brave a taste of his tea. "Oh! Careful! It's hot."

He set it down and smacked his lips for a second, relishing. "That was, actually quite delicious. It was… very sweet. Is it always so sweet?"

Crowley was still thinking about Lucifer being in contact with Her. "Aziraphale just like to use too much sugar."

Aziraphale scoffed at the notion. "I use the perfect amount. She told you about humanity first?"

Lucifer glanced at Crowley and back at Aziraphale. "Yes. And I Fell because….. that was just how things had to happen. Crowley followed soon after I did. About a hundred years ago now, She and I talked about her plans for the Earth. My son was sent here as a test of humanity, with the potential to destroy it. But not the absoluteness."

"So, humanity passes if he doesn't destroy, but if he chooses to then they've failed," Crowley summed.

"Yes."

Aziraphale was still regarding Lucifer distrustfully, but seemed to be going with it. "But we don't even know where he is."

Lucifer took one of the biscuits that Aziraphale put out- his favourites- and studied it like he had the tea. "Nor do I, I'm afraid. The only good thing about that is- neither do Heaven and Hell. Only God knows where he is, and She isn't giving up any details."

"So nothing new then," Crowley said sarcastically.

Aziraphale glared at him. "Manners, Crowley, learn them."

Crowley waved him off. "From me, I promise She's used to it."

Lucifer looked simultaneously charmed and irritated. "However, now that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are being summoned, they will know. My suggestion is to find him before the opposing sides realize it isn't the Dowling boy you've spent the last years turning into a horrible and terribly confused person."

Crowley grimaced. "We were trying to make him normal."

"Why don't Heaven or Hell know? Why are they being allowed to go about planning the end of the world? Why don't they know if this is only meant to be a test?"

Lucifer took another sip of tea, obviously too unsure of the biscuit. "It's not for them to know. Even if I told Beezlebub, the wheels are too far set in motion. I can't just tell them it's off unless it's off. So far everything is happening as it is meant to, as She wants it. I wonder if the humans aren't the only ones being tested. Gabriel, for one, needs to be knocked down a few pegs."

"That's definitely nothing new," Crowley said under his breath.

"I can't be doing this," Aziraphale said, having been troubled as soon as Lucifer suggested that everyone was being tested. "It was enough to be conspiring with Crowley, but I can't be plotting this with Satan. This is- if Gabriel found out-"

"God already knows," Lucifer told him. "She's known from the beginning, as I have. If She wished you to be punished for it, you would be. If She wanted Heaven to know, they would."

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "I don't know. How can I even trust you're telling the truth and you don't have ulterior motives?"

Lucifer held his hand out towards Crowley. "Do you trust him, then? He knows me better than anyone. If he tells you he believes me, I'm not lying."

"Crowley?"

He rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. I think he's telling the truth. He definitely knew we were friends. He was the one that suggested coming here, and God isn't one to wait on punishing those that defy Her."

Aziraphale stood up and made a motion for Crowley to follow him. He waited until they were out of earshot before talking, his hands clasped worriedly in front of him but his expression was firm.

"I need to know who you were, before you Fell I mean. I obviously didn't know you, I don't think. I was made just before the Rebellion, after all."

Crowley's heart beat faster in his chest as the angel spoke, his face heating and his mouth running dry. He mumbled, not meeting the other's eyes. "No. I wouldn't imagine we'd ever met."

"Crowley, tell me."

"Why?" He asked, suddenly feeling defensive. "Would it make you trust me more? Knowing who I used to be? You don't trust me after six thousand years?"

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you're implying. There's not much to tell you. I used to be an angel, and now I'm not. There."

Aziraphale sighed exasperatedly. "Crowley, please. Do you think I haven't noticed that you had to have been different? Lucifer calls you brother, the other demons are afraid to barely talk to you, and I've seen you do things I can't do. Gabriel seems to hate you even more than he hates me."

"Gabriel is a cock, he hates everything."

"Crowley, I've seen you walk into a church."

"Yeah, because you were seconds from having yourself discorporated. Someone had to get you out of trouble."

Aziraphale glared. "I never asked you to come to my aide."

Crowley felt like they were heading towards an argument, and he knew it was because he was getting defensive for no reason. If roles were reversed, he'd feel the need to know. But he didn't want to say. He didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I can't tell you," he whispered.

"Yes, you can."

No, really he couldn't. He physically couldn't say his name anymore, therefore couldn't tell Aziraphale even if he wanted to, but that wasn't quite how he'd meant it.

"I don't want to," he tried instead.

Aziraphale looked dejected, disappointed. "Crowley, I do trust you. Even, even without that. I only wished to know. You always speak of my superiors as though you knew them closely, and you speak of Her the same way. Then you bring him here."

Crowley, knowing it might be a mistake of timing, took Aziraphale's face in his hands and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. Then he pulled away and leaned his forehead on Aziraphale's.

"Angel, please fight with me. Fight the Apocalypse with me, save the world with me, and once it's all over I will tell you everything."

"Do you promise?" He asked, quiet and testily.

Crowley smiled. "Don't know what the word of a demon means, but you have mine."

Aziraphale's face was pink and his blue eyes were wide with absolute trust. "Okay."

Lucifer called from the other room. "Brother, I must go soon."

He and Aziraphale went back and the angel cautiously asked, "She knows you're here, doesn't she? Like she's known about us being friends?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Aziraphale nodded to himself. "Does that mean she wants us to do this?"

"I don't know. She's always been mysterious. She's always kept the cards close to her chest, even when we were close. I think, personally, that She knows what we'll all do before we do it, and it's not a matter of Her want. It's more, She's giving us the chance to save everything. At this point, if we find my son and he wants to destroy everything, then there isn't anything we can do to stop it. It's his choice, just as ours is to find him and try. Think of it as, a flaming sword."

At this Aziraphale's face paled.

"You can keep it, and that would be your choice and perfectly alright either way. Or you can give it to those in need and that too would be your choice. Either way, however, it is your choice and yet something she already knows the outcome."

"We'll find him," Aziraphale said.

Lucifer stood up. "I thank you. Both of you, truly. I have enjoyed meeting you, Aziraphale. I had looked forward to it, as my brother is not as easy to please as he once was, but now I understand and I am happy for him. Walk me out, brother."

Crowley touched Aziraphale's arm on the way past, stopping at the door of the shop with Lucifer, who turned back to him with a smile.

"I am proud and happy for you, my brother. I truly hope this turns out in the way we want. However, just because She and I are the only ones who know now, doesn't mean it wouldn't be easy for others to find out if there was the reason to be suspicious. Heaven holds the Earth observation files, and I wouldn't put it past Gabriel to request a follow up on Aziraphale's previous whereabouts. If there is something about it at home, I will let you know."

"Thank you."

"No. Thank you."

And with that Lucifer exited the shop, but did not make it to the sidewalk out front before he popped out of sight and presumably back to Hell.

**A/N: Chapter five, as promised. I love writing this Lucifer, and I can't wait to post more on Tuesday. Thank you so much for reading, and even more if you choose to review or follow my story. **

**Cassie**


	6. The Wreck We Made

Chapter six: The Wreck We Made

Incompetent nuns. Blasphemous as it was, Crowley could think of twelve tragic instances of shite happening because of incompetent nuns. And half of them were Catholic. Catholics were Crowley's favourite, so repressed and rife with a longing to be tempted.

"Blue?"

Crowley squinted at the red on his fingers, rubbing it around between them. "Oh, it's paint."

"Hey!" A human came up to them. "You've both been hit! I don't know what you think you're playing at right-"

Crowley snarled, letting the man see his other form for a glimpse. Aziraphale sighed at him, giving him a disapproving look. "Oh, Crowley. Did you _have _to?"

He shrugged. "It was fun. Besides, I deserve it after the stress we've been under. I swear I'm getting grey scales."

"It was fun for _you_," he said in an exasperated tone. "Look at the state of this coat. I've kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years now. I'll never get this stain out."

"You could miracle it away."

He pouted, which sort of made him smile. "Yes, but, well, I would always know the stain was there. Underneath, I mean."

Crowley turned to the side and blew the paint off of the coat. He was rewarded with a delightful little smile before they continued on enough to approach where the human had fallen and dropped his firearm. Aziraphale picked the thing up and showed it to him.

"Impressive hardware," he said. "I've looked at this gun. It's not a proper one at all. It just shoots paintballs."

Crowley, somewhat excited, took it from him and playfully aimed. "Don't your lot disapprove of guns?"

Aziraphale moved the barrel away from him, as if he half expected Crowley to shoot and ruin his coat. Which, okay, Crowley would definitely do; but he'd remove the paint immediately, of course.

"Unless they're in the right hands," the angel said. "Then it gives weight to a moral argument. I think."

Crowley smiled at him, at how innocent he was sure he'd always be. "A moral argument? Really? Come on, angel."

He threw the paint gun over his shoulder and passed by, laughing.

So it was no longer a church hospital, which became painfully obvious even before they found the one nun that he'd given the baby to. They went through the halls and Aziraphale let him kick in doors as they went along, picking up brochures to glance at before tossing them on the floor. Aziraphale even waited until he wasn't looking to miracle them back where they belonged.

Aziraphale walked straight, leisurely, with his hands clasped behind his back. Crowley sauntered beside him. There were shouts in the distance with people running back and forth. Strangely, Crowley could feel what it was Aziraphale was talking about when he said the place felt warm. It felt loved.

"Oh," a woman came through, breathless and running by. "Mille from Accounts caught me on the elbow. Who's winning?"

Crowley glanced at the angel and smirked, feeling incredibly mischievous all of a sudden. "You're all going to lose."

He snapped his fingers and heard the sounds outside change. Aziraphale's eyes widened, looking back and forth between the windows and Crowley worriedly. He kept doing so as Crowley kept walking and he rushed to catch up.

"What- what the _Hell _did you just do?"

Crowley smirked at the tone of voice, the same one he had when Crowley first started lighting random fires out of boredom and accidentally burnt down half a forest. Or switching out random bills from strangers with fakes. Vexation with just the slightest lift of amusement in spite of himself.

He shrugged. "Well, they wanted real guns, so I just gave them what they wanted."

Despite Lucifer, and despite their search for Crowley's sort of nephew, he was actually in an incredible mood. He was smiling, feeling lighter than he had for eleven years; knowing now that they had a real chance at avoiding war. He had to hand it to him, Aziraphale waiting a few frantic seconds before saying something.

"There are people out there _shooting _at each other!"

Crowley shrugged and kicked in a door, smiling a bit when he heard glass break.. "Well, it lends weight to their moral argument. Everyone has free will, including the right to murder. Just think of it as a microcosm of the universe."

He could feel his angel's frustration, heard his outraged squeak. "They're murdering each other."

"No, they aren't," he sighed, disgusted with his own softness. Angels were the _real _bad influences. "No one's killing anyone. They're all having miraculous escapes. Wouldn't be any fun otherwise."

"You know, Crowley," Aziraphale's smile was as though he'd known all along it was a trick. "I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice-"

"Don't! I'm not nice," he snarled, not realizing how close he was to his face. "I'm a demon."

Aziraphale didn't seem the least bit intimidated, his eyes going wide a bit at their proximity. "Yes, of course. My sincerest apologies, you're actually quite scary."

Crowley sniffed. "Thank you."

"Can I help you? Hope I'm not interrupting an intimate moment."

Damn the idiot human that came up with organized religion. And nuns! Nuns were the worst of them all! Repressed, incompetent, ineffectual, Crowley felt words popping to his mind that he was sure he'd accidentally soaked in from one of Aziraphale's books. The angel had the horrible, wonderful habit of finding books he fell in love with and then proceed to read that entire book to him.

"There must be some other way of locating him," Aziraphale said the statement with something of a question at the end, glancing anxiously at Crowley as he made too sharp of a turn.

"How the heaven should I know? Armageddon only happens once, you know. There's no getting it right next time. But if we don't find him it won't be the war to end all wars, it will be the war to end everything and Lucifer and Gabriel will be the last of our worries."

"Why have I never heard you mention how close you were to him? And I've noticed how much Gabriel seems to hate you more than because you're a demon."

Crowley winced at how close they were to Aziraphale asking him who he was. Again. "Lucifer and I weren't close for a long time. We were closer than anything before we fell, then we didn't talk again until the Garden when he sent me topside. I haven't seen him since until he showed up at my flat yesterday."

"And Gabriel?" Aziraphale's tones of voice were just as easy to read as his face. He had tones for when he was amused with Crowley, exasperated, or worried he might cause an outburst. This was the last.

"Gabriel was always jealous of how close Lucifer and I was. We rarely included him, and when we did it was obvious that it wasn't wholehearted. He hated us both and took great delight in dragging me to Hell himself."

Aziraphale exclaimed as he took another too sharp turn. "I-I didn't know. I don't remember much if anything about the Rebellion. What did you call it? A servile insurrection? I-I don't much care for that term, but you would know more than I. That would explain your disdain for him, I suppose."

Crowley didn't say anything for several minutes, thinking of how he'd begged Her to take it back. Begged Her not to cast Lucifer out. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pushed harder on the gas pedal, and if Aziraphale noticed he didn't say so.

"There's a very peculiar feeling to this whole area," he said, changing the subject back similar to before. "I'm astonished you can't feel it."

He could. Crowley was still intuned. Despite was people seemed to think- particularly the angels- your entire thought process didn't suddenly flip as soon as you earned your one-way ticket to the pit, and he had never quite managed to change his way of thought in as long as he had tried. It was just easier to pretend, for his own sake and for the sake of having to explain over and over, that he was a demon. And there were a number of appropriate things for a demon to do or feel. This included admitting that while his Head Offices changed, he never really had.

"I don't feel anything out of the ordinary."

To some extent he was telling the truth. He felt whatever it was Aziraphale was talking about, but it was remarkably similar to how he always felt near the angel.

"It's everywhere. All over here," he could hear the awe in the angel's voice. He placed a hand on Crowley's arm and the other on his chest as he had at paintball. "Love, that's what it is. Flashes of love."

"You're being ridiculous."

It was actually different than he generally felt with Aziraphale. Aziraphale reminded him of what it felt to be in Heaven, but his feelings for him were different. What he was feeling in Tadfield was like the love that he used to feel when the world was new and everything was yet to be discovered.

"The last thing we need right now is-"

Crowley was cut off by a thud and a lurch and his stomach dropped. He'd hit the brakes immediately, and the Bentley didn't disappoint in its acquiescence. He and Aziraphale sat there frozen for a minute before the latter swallowed unnecessarily.

"You hit someone," he said quietly.

"I didn't," Crowley felt the need to correct, after all he had never hit anyone or anything without meaning to. "Someone hit _me_."

Seeing Aziraphale go overboard with his miracle and the spotlight over their victim made Crowley get out of his inner monologue and get back to their matter at hand. He snapped away the angel's spotlight and went about fixing his car while Aziraphale saw to the girl that did the damage. Stupid human bent the body and knocked out his headlight, scratched his poor thing.

"Amazingly resilient, these old machines," Aziraphale said in his delightful optimism. He came over wheeling the now perfect bicycle. "Where do you need to get to?"

"No, no, we're not giving her a lift," Crowley whined, albeit half-hearted. After all, she hurt his car. "Out of the question. There's nowhere to put the bike."

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder with a triumphant, sarcastic smirk. "Except for the bike rack."

There was a low metallic sound and Crowley turned to find the bike rack in mention on his car. It was ridiculous, like seeing the worst form of blasphemy in front of him. He felt annoyed and amused at the same time, much like he imagined Aziraphale felt when Crowley used the angel's phone number on a flyer for AA.

"Do get in, my dear."

Crowley sighed, letting her in the back seat with a grand, mocking arm gesture. "So, where are we taking you?"

She got in with a haughty air and a self-important tone to her voice. "Back to the village. I'll give you directions."

Of course she was American. Crowley made a jeering motion at Aziraphale and slid into his seat. Aziraphale got in and Crowley blasted a most appropriate song in hopes it would discourage the American from making conversation.

It didn't work.

"Listen, my bike, it didn't have gears. I know my bike didn't have gears. Make a left."

Crowley didn't have to look over to know Aziraphale would look incredibly sheepish. He fought the urge to smirk, imitating him under his breath just so the angel could hear.

"Oh, Lord, heal this bike."

It wasn't until he said that, that he realized there had been tension before- either from Lucifer or that one kiss they shared or the uncomfortable conversations about Crowley and who he used to be. The air had been tense, and it took him teasing the angel to see and release it. It was gone in the moment he realized it had been there in the first place.

The angel replied sharply, embarrassed. "I got carried away."

"Oh, you can drop me off here."

Crowley pulled over and let her out, Aziraphale fetching the bike and probably doing some fast work on it. He wheeled it over to her and gestured to it with a proud-of-himself smile.

"Oh, look. No gears. Just a perfectly normal velocipede."

"Bicycle," Crowley corrected, standing at the driver's side door. "Can we get on? Get in, angel."

They drove in comfortable silence until Aziraphale lit up at the sight of a little diner on the way back to London and Crowley found himself pulling in to the car park. He ordered a coffee, the angel did not, and they brainstormed options for finding the child. Aziraphale had insisted that, after knowing how close he and Lucifer were and had been, they couldn't just call the child the Antichrist anymore. It was degrading, or something.

"You know," the angel said, "we might get another human to find him."

"What?" He'd been watching Aziraphale's mouth while he chewed.

"Humans are good at finding other humans. They've been doing it for thousands of years," the angel went on to explain, obviously not noticing. "And the boy is partly human. Other humans might be able to sense him."

Crowley frowned, squinting. "I don't think that's how it works. Besides, he's the Antichrist. He's got an automatic defence thingy. Suspicion slides off him, like…. I don't know, whatever it is water slides off."

Aziraphale gave him a dead judgmental look. "Got any better ideas? Or one single better idea?"

He raised one of his eyebrows behind his glasses at Aziraphale's attitude. "Well, we could always go door to door using the old hospital as a starting point, branching out from there."

"That's a terrible idea," the angel told him. "And we don't have that kind of time."

"That's my point. We don't even have enough information for anyone to really be able to do anything with. His age, and place and date of birth. That isn't much."

"We would start them in Tadfield," Aziraphale suggested. Then his countenance changed into a familiar one of fret. Crowley barely noticed, later realizing he should have- and should have addressed it. "What-what exactly is our plan for when we _do _find him? The child."

Crowley grabbed a sugar packet and tore it open, pouring a number of them onto the table for no reason. That word, that word, that word… He began pouring the contents of the salt and pepper shakers on top of it in the efforts to make a mountain. "I suppose we should try to talk to him, tell him the truth, and make sure he won't destroy the Earth. If he doesn't, then humanity has won and we did it. If not, well, we can work on that when we get there."

"If this is a test of humanity, then why are we looking for him at all?"

"Well, if he doesn't know what's going on then he might be more likely to end it all. We find him, we get Lucifer, and we save the world. Then, maybe dinner?"

Aziraphale seemed to deflate. "L-Lucifer? Why-why would we have to tell him?"

Crowley frowned, he was getting closer to that word he'd missed, and blew his salt, pepper, and sugar mountain away to start again, this time with equal quantities of all. "Well, the only reason we even know that we have a chance is because of _him_. Lucifer should know, and he might even have ideas on how to approach him."

"Right, yes. Shall we on?"

Crowley smirked at his condiment mountain. "Let's get back."

They were in the car for a while before Aziraphale started the conversation again. He was acting strange, quiet. "Look, there's something I should tell you. I have a… 'network' of highly trained human agents spread across the country. Now, I could set them searching for the boy."

"You do? I actually- I actually have something similar. Human operatives."

"Gosh," the angel said, sounding worried. "Do you think they ought to work together?"

Crowley imagined introducing Aziraphale to the obsessive and somewhat delusional Shadwell and winced, shaking his head. "I don't think that's a very good idea. My lot are not very sophisticated, politically speaking."

The angel sagged, either in disappointment or thankfulness. "No, no, neither are mine. So we tell our respective operatives to look for the boy? Unless you have a better idea?"

There was a niggle in the back of Crowley's mind, like he was just that close, and-

"Ducks!"

He exclaimed with a gleeful grin, that may have looked a little manic, the strangest and most irrational flare of giddiness in his chest. Aziraphale sounded perplexed.

"What about ducks?"

"_They're_ what water slides off."

There was a sigh. "Just drive the car, please."

Crowley went back to their conversation, this time with that previous matter sorted. Now he didn't feel like he was going crazy where before he had been a bit preoccupied. "We don't have enough information to send our operatives on the right trail."

"Well, you and I can explore other avenues, and tell them what we _do _know. We only have a few days to get this right. I-I couldn't forgive myself if we didn't try everything."

"Yeah. I get that."

He pulled in across from the book shop and got out, ready to address another issue. "You know, if you lined up everyone in the whole world and asked them to describe the Velvet Underground, nobody at all would say 'bebop'."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at him, glancing in the backseat as he shut the door behind him. "Oh, there's a book back there."

"Well, it's not mine. I don't read books."

"It has to belong to the young lady you hit with your car," he said disapprovingly.

Crowley sniffed at the accusation. "Lucifer can't hold everyone right now if I get caught with you, without seeming like he's losing control of things. I can't be seen returning lost property. That's what your lot do. Why don't you just send it to the Tadfield post office, addressed to 'the mad American woman with the bicycle'?"

Aziraphale seemed quite distracted and borderline frantic. "Oh, uh… jolly good, yes. Rather."

"Right, so we'll both contact our respective human operatives, then?"

"All right," Aziraphale started walking away. Quickly.

"Are you alright?"

The angel turned around, almost to the door. "Perfectly, yes. Uh, tip-top. Absolutely tickety-boo?"

Crowley scowled. "Tickety-boo?"

"Mind how you go."

Crowley raised his brows, looking around. "Well, that was a thing."

**A/N: I am so sorry! I don't mean to keep skipping my updates. My husband and I are just a bit preoccupied. We're buying a boat, going offshore, sailing the world, sending postcards, etc. I promise to keep up with the updates! Happy HAPPY New Year to you all!**

**So, Ima tell you a story. It's my favourite memory of 2019 and something I will always remember. Early this year, maybe around May? I was sick and had to have my husband's son (long story) come pick me up and take me home since my husband and I both worked a bit out of town. However, we were already there by the time I realized I'd forgotten the keys. We were living in an RV, planned to travel the country. So, without my keys and with the door locked, Ivo (husband's son) pulled his car up to the window and stood on his hood trying to reach in through the window and unlock the door. This wasn't working, so he pulled the car around the back to climb in through the bigger window over the couch. The whole time I'm standing there filming it and hoping to God that no one calls the cops. **

**"Why, yes, officer. I know what this looks like, but I own this RV. Oh, my papers? Right, yes, of course. They're just inside... with my set of keys."**

**And that is my favourite memory of 2019. What's yours?**

**-Cassie**


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